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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25076158">re:dress</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/steebadore/pseuds/steebadore'>steebadore</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>TCB (taking care of bucky) [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Captain America - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Idiots in Love, Sharing Clothes, steve rogers: pure of heart and dumb of ass, the abysmal american healthcare system</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 03:15:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,961</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25076158</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/steebadore/pseuds/steebadore</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky takes a deep breath, muttering, "why do you smell like hotdogs?" He pauses, brow furrowing. "And blood? And—" he tenses, voice rising as his hand tightens in Steve's hair to yank his head back, "<i>hospital</i>?"</p>
<p>"Uh…" Steve clears his throat, trying to think of a way to explain that won't sound stupid, even though he knows in his heart that it is very stupid. He didn't do anything wrong, exactly, but also, if he's realistic, he didn't do anything particularly smart either.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>TCB (taking care of bucky) [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1230983</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>97</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>400</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>re:dress</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I am very rusty at this whole writing thing, so when I woke up out of a dead sleep at 3am to write this the other day, I tried not to ask myself too many questions about what the hell was going on in my brain to cause this. I don't know if I remember how to string words together properly, and I definitely don't remember how to make jokes, but here's a couple thousand words of them being idiots.</p>
<p>this is not a birthday fic, but it does contain mentions of hotdogs so is sort of thematic? happy birthday, steve rogers. you get a very irritated and fond husband.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Steve winces when he steps through the front door and sees Bucky sprawled on the couch in the living room. <i>Damn it.</i> He'd been holding out a slim sliver of hope that Bucky would be out on the balcony watering his plants, or puttering around the kitchen so he'd be able to slip down the hall to the shower without being caught. Although… Bucky's shirtless, with his arm slung over his eyes and Alpine curled up on his shoulder eyeing Steve with one accusatory blue eyeball, daring him to disturb his favorite person. Maybe Bucky's napping? </p>
<p>He walks as quietly as he can past the couch, just barely swallowing down a yelp when Bucky grumbles, "what're you sneaking around for, Rogers?"</p>
<p>"Uh," Steve says, trying for casual but knowing it probably sounds strangled. "Just, uh. Didn't want to wake you."</p>
<p>"Not sleeping," Bucky says, and it's then that Steve hears that particular note of petulance in his voice that says his grumpiness is masking something deeper. His own problems forgotten, Steve eases onto the other end of the couch and puts Bucky's bare feet in his lap, worry ebbing slightly when he doesn't try to resist. </p>
<p>"You okay, Buck?"</p>
<p>"Mmmgh," he grunts, in a way that tells Steve exactly how okay he isn't.</p>
<p>"That a gray <i>mmmgh</i> or an orange <i>mmmgh</i>?" he asks. They'd adopted the color system early on, when Bucky'd had a hard time expressing his feelings with words. Gray meant he was upset about something and needed Steve to bully him into talking about it, and orange signaled that if Steve so much as looked at him with concern things might go nuclear very quickly. They hardly had to use the system at all all anymore, mostly just as a way to poke at each other, but Steve doesn't miss the way Bucky's shoulders relax minutely. </p>
<p>"It's a too stupid to talk about but you should come here and make me feel better anyway mmmgh," Bucky says, not bothering to move his arm from over his eyes. The corner of his mouth ticks up when Steve crawls over him and settles his bulk on top of him, and Steve can't help but press a kiss to the little curve. </p>
<p>Alpine huffs at Steve's intrusion on their quality time and uncoils herself from the small space between Bucky's neck and shoulder, hopping daintily onto Steve's back and proceeding to knead his shoulder blade with several small knives in retaliation. </p>
<p>"Asshole," Steve laughs, working his hand under Bucky to rub at his neck. Bucky makes a small sound and melts, one hand coming to rest on Steve's head, fingers carding through his hair. </p>
<p>It's a nice moment, quiet and tender, and Steve would have been content to lay this way all day had Bucky not taken a deep breath, muttering, "why do you smell like hotdogs?" He pauses, brow furrowing. "And blood? And—" he tenses, voice rising as his hand tightens in Steve's hair to yank his head back, "<i>hospital</i>?"</p>
<p>"Uh…" Steve clears his throat, trying to think of a way to explain that won't sound stupid, even though he knows in his heart that it is very stupid. He didn't do anything wrong, exactly, but also, if he's realistic, he didn't do anything particularly smart either.</p>
<p>"<i>What did you do, Steven</i>?" Bucky glares up at him, the hand not gripping Steve's hair running over his shoulders and chest, presumably to make sure Steve had not been bleeding out while they cuddled on the couch. </p>
<p>"Listen, Buck, it's not a big deal—"</p>
<p>"You went for a run two hours ago and somehow got bloody enough to go to a hospital—you, a whole dumbass, going to a hospital without a minimum of three people dragging your ass there—and it's <i>not a big deal</i>?" The air quotes are heavily implied.</p>
<p>See, this is why he wanted to shower before Bucky saw him. "How about…I tell you my stupid thing if you tell me yours?" He tries for a winning smile. "Only fair, right?"</p>
<p>Bucky narrows his eyes. "Fine. You first."</p>
<p>Steve licks his lips and considers asking if Bucky will let go of his hair so he can sit up, but decides against it. Better not push his luck. "So uh, you know Mr. Ray, with the hot dog cart in the park?"</p>
<p>"Uh huh," Bucky says impatiently.</p>
<p>"Well, I was, you know, running and I hear this guy hassling him because he was out of ketchup—and I'm thinking, first of all, what kind of assole puts ketchup on a dog, right? That's fuckin gross—alright, alright," he yelps when Bucky tugs on his hair. "And so anyway I jogged over and asked him to lay off."</p>
<p>"Yeah, I'm sure you said it real nice too, too," Bucky says, mouth flattening.</p>
<p>"Yeah, Buck. I was real respectful," Steve nods, hissing when the movement pulls at his hair, because the depth of his stupidity apparently has no limit. He leaves out the part where he told the guy if he didn't stop being a jackass he'd shove that hotdog so far down his throat he wouldn't be able to tell if it had ketchup on it or not. "And well, he took a swing at me and hurt his hand."</p>
<p>"And you—Captain 'Ask Me About How I Let the US Government Irradiate My Balls' America—couldn't avoid some asshole tourist's punch?"<br/>Steve shrugs and can't help smirking, just a little. "Thought if I let him get a lucky shot in he might feel better. Didn't realize he'd break his fucking hand on my chin."</p>
<p>Bucky sighs. "So you took him to the hospital."</p>
<p>"Well, he was yelling about how he didn't have insurance and bleeding through his busted knuckles, thought it was only fair that I give him a lift and pay for his ER visit." Steve tries to duck his head and winces again at the tug on his scalp. "Also maybe I signed him up for Obamacare while we were in the waiting room. So really, when you think about it, Buck, I actually helped this guy."</p>
<p>Bucky closes his eyes briefly, as though praying for strength. "Out of all the guys in Brooklyn, how'd I get stuck with the dumbest, huh?" He tugs at Steve's sore scalp for emphasis.</p>
<p>"Just lucky I guess," Steve says, grinning with relief when Bucky releases his hair so he can lean down and kiss his surly mouth. "Now you tell me your stupid thing."</p>
<p>"God, it's so much less stupid now actually, I should thank you," Bucky says, pushing at Steve's shoulders to let him sit up. He sighs and looks down at his hands, and Steve can tell that no matter how he'll try to brush it off, whatever it is really bothers him. "I ripped my shirt."</p>
<p>Oh. Well, that doesn't seem too bad. That's fixable. He wraps his arm around Bucky's shoulder and reels him into his side. "Which one, honey? We can probably sew it up."</p>
<p>"No," Bucky says in a small voice. "It's too small for me now, I guess. Split right down the back. So. Not worth fixing."</p>
<p>Steve squeezes him in that soft space between ribs and hips, his favorite spot to rest his hand these days. "We can get you more shirts, Buck," he says, unsure what he needs. </p>
<p>"I know," Bucky says, turning his face into Steve's neck and sighing. "It's just—it's stupid, like I said."</p>
<p>Steve rubs his back and rests his cheek on Bucky's head. "It's not stupid if you're upset, honey."</p>
<p>Bucky snorts wetly and pulls away. "No, it is," he says stubbornly. "Go take a shower, you smell like hot dog water."</p>
<p>"Okay, Buck," Steve says, resigned to dropping it for now. He waits until he's in the hallway and out of Bucky's eyeline before letting his face furrow into a concerned frown, knowing he's reached the edges of Bucky's orange zone. </p>
<p>He spots it when he's shucking off his hot dog perfumed clothes, a ball of faded pink fabric crumpled up in the bathroom trash. He pulls it out gingerly, and blows out a painful breath when understanding dawns. </p>
<p>It'd been that first day, when Steve'd walked into his sad, spartan apartment to see Bucky hunched over on his couch. Six months of searching, and as soon as Steve gave in and let Bucky be, there he was. He should have known. When he'd finally coaxed Bucky, shivering and mostly silent, into a warm bath, his hands shook with nerves and restraint as he tried to keep his touches light and gentle instead of gathering Bucky into his arms and holding him tight until he'd erased every memory of every moment he'd spent without him. Instead, he'd washed Bucky's hair, telegraphing every movement and swallowing back tears at the trust when Bucky closed his eyes and sighed. </p>
<p>He'd laid out clean clothes for him on the bed, sweats and thick socks because even if it was July, air close and thick enough to chew, Bucky'd yet to stop shivering. But Bucky'd only swayed close and tentatively tugged at the hem of Steve's own shirt, some stupid pink monstrosity he'd been given at a charity 5K a few weeks before. He'd pulled it off and handed it over, rubbing the back of his neck and whispering, "it's kind of sweaty, Buck."</p>
<p>"'s okay," Bucky'd said as he pulled it over his head, his voice hoarse and quiet, creaking like a door that hadn't been opened in years. He'd paused with the collar over his nose, Steve watching as his shoulders rose and fell with deep breaths, something tender twisting in his guts as Bucky breathed in deep. He understood.</p>
<p>He understands now, too. He grabs his phone from the counter and takes a picture—and then takes one again, this time being careful not to get his naked dick in the shot—and texts it to Pepper. Hopefully she can help.</p>
<hr/>
<p>A few weeks later they're lounging on the couch watching a movie, and Steve very casually removes his hoodie. And when Bucky doesn't look over, he very casually clears his throat. And when Bucky still doesn't pay attention, he very casually coughs. Bucky's head whips around on instinct, his expression going from irritated to confused as he takes in Steve's faded pink shirt. </p>
<p>"What—how?" he says, leaning closer and eyeing the shirt like he's about to snatch it right off Steve's body. </p>
<p>Steve tries not to sound smug when he says, "Pepper got in touch with the charity, and they had some leftover shirts in the bigger sizes."</p>
<p>Bucky reaches out a hand, rubbing the fabric tentatively between his fingers. "But it's so soft?"</p>
<p>Steve grins. "Washed it a few times until it got faded like the old one."</p>
<p>"<i>Oh</i>," Bucky says. "I just thought you were doing so much laundry because you were having dick problems again."</p>
<p>"Buck—I don't—it's not a problem! I'm just sensitive," Steve huffs. </p>
<p>Bucky laughs and tugs at the hem of Steve's shirt. "Hand it over, Mr. Sensitive."</p>
<p>Steve hands it over, watching as Bucky tears his sweater off and pulls it on, feeling warm all the way down to his bones when he lets the collar sit over his nose for a moment. "Smells like you," Bucky says, muffled. "Gross."</p>
<p>"Just trying to give you the authentic experience, Buck," Steve says, settling back and letting Bucky crawl into his arms. </p>
<p>"You did good, Rogers," Bucky says quietly, kissing his neck. "Thanks."</p>
<p>"'s what I'm here for, honey," Steve says, running his hand over Bucky's back and going a little gooey himself when Bucky melts into him and sighs. </p>
<p>"Yeah," Bucky mumbles, and promptly falls asleep.</p>
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